Almost Human
by IronKitten
Summary: Dedicated to the Bedlam Blvd. players and their characters. Roulette/Riddler shippage.


Roulette sighed and leaned her head against the headboard of the absurd "RiddlerBed," too high, drunk, and, well..._happy_ to really sleep. And something was buzzing around in the back of her head—something was bothering her. The lines she'd done earlier didn't help, either, and she was almost ready to get up and do something—anything—when a long, exaggerated sigh came from the man sitting next to her.

"Honey bunny," Edward whined, "nobody writes any good stories about me!"

Roulette rolled her red-speckled eyes and looked over at Eddie. Face bathed in the glow of the laptop, pants discarded, expression crumpled in narcissistic disappointment.

Yeah, that was her lover.

Sitting up and pulling her knee to her chin, allowing her crimson yukata to slide down her shoulder and reveal the wicked head of the snake, she ignored him completely.

"I had such a nice day, Eddie."

"As did I, darling." He paused briefly to meet her eyes and smile before returning to the computer. There was a brief silence followed by a mumbled "Jesus Christ, I would _never_ say that."

Just as she was about to mention that very cute image drawn of the pair the day before, something happened. Something that made the back of her neck prickle with rage and her teeth clench together.

The front door opened.

"Absolutely fucking not."

Eddie looked up, and, upon seeing her expression, reverted to deer-in-the-headlights mode and slammed his laptop shut. "Honey bunny you are absolutely right it's the night after Valentine's Day and CrankshouldprobablygohomesoI'llgoandsendhimaw-"

"Oh no, pet." That purring condescension crept into her voice and she leaned towards Eddie, tipping his chin with her index finger and dusting his lips with a kiss. "I'll handle it."

"I really should-"

"You're so busy stroking your ego, I'd hate for you to be interrupted."

She watched, bemused, as Eddie's face tightened in fear while she got up and flowed to the doorway, glancing over her shoulder with a reassuring smile. "I'll be gentle."

"Please don't scare him."

"Never! I wouldn't dream of hurting my sweetheart's...Bro."

The moment the door was shut behind her and she could clearly hear "Oh! Susanna" being whistled somewhere from the vicinity of their kitchen, her yukata gathered at her feet. Her pale form glowed in the low hall light, interrupted only by the twisting python that decorated her flesh and the black hair tumbling down her back and over her shoulders.

Smooth and silent, Roulette made her way down the stairs and towards the room in question, her lips curled in a distinctly sadistic grin. The lights were off, but even so, a yellow beam streamed forth from the refrigerator, revealing the hunched back of the wiry doctor while he rummaged through the food.

"Well good evening, Crank," Roulette said pleasantly, careful to hide her nudity behind the bar, "I wasn't expecting you to show up so very late!"

Crane jumped visibly at the sound of her voice, hitting his head on a shelf and swearing before stumbling back and closing the fridge door. His head swiveled and he gazed into her general direction, not entirely able to see her clearly in the dark.

"Evening, ma'am. I'm sorry to wake you up, but you see my budgeting lately hasn't exactly been wise—I'll tell you what, experimenting on those rats you gave me is expensive as _Hell_ and sweet Mary Mother I can't even _imagine_ going without-"

"Crank, sweetie," she crooned, smiling, "don't be silly. I know Eddie doesn't mind, and it is _his_ penthouse; take what you like. You don't need to come sneaking around in the dark just because I'm here."

A look of relief crossed Crane's face and he smiled, visibly relaxing.

"I cannot _tell_ you what that means to me, ma'am, and I'm sorry I bothered you. Is Ed up?"

"Oh, yes," she sighed, "he's on his computer, feeding his ego."

Another sigh, this one more a yawn, and Roulette cracked her neck. "Well, Crank, I'm going to bed; it's been a long day, and work tomorrow. I'm sure you know."

From that point it was a simple matter of standing up and flipping on the light switch.

"Here, this will make it easier for you to check the cupboards, too."

The following screech would echo through the penthouse forever; generations of rich yuppies living there would awaken in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, wondering what that sound was.

"_Oh-Jesus-Lord-in-Heaven-no-Icannotevenunderstandwhy- LORD CHRIST ALMIGHTY YOU'VE BEEN- THE WHOLE-"_

As Crank averted his tearful eyes and scampered down the hall, chanting an amalgamation of prayers and curses, Roulette leaned out after him. "Be sure to close the fridge the next time you come by!"

Smiling to herself, Roulette closed the door and meandered upstairs once again, sure to slide her yukata on before entering the bedroom and grinning at a rather grim-faced Edward.

"Please, please tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what?" she asked, slipping back into bed and kissing Eddie's cheek. "I think my robe shifted in a way that frightened him, the poor dear."

Riddler glared back at her; not only was he too intelligent to buy into her casual manipulations, but he was too _used_ to them.

That didn't mean she was going to stop.

Leaning against Eddie's shoulder and wrapping her arms around his neck, Roulette brought her mouth to his ear. "Don't pout, sweetie. You know I can't stand it." Her left leg draped over Eddie's lap and she felt his hand instinctively rest upon it, his fingertips sliding just under the hem of the Japanese robe.

"I just wish you would be more understanding of Crank," he told her with a frown, making the mistake of glancing over at the set of sweet (though reddened) doll-eyes that gazed back. "He's my best friend, and he's important to me."

Roulette's eyes rolled and she gave up, falling back upon the bed and staring at the ceiling with a huff. Cognizant of the fact that her loosely-tied robe had fallen open, she spread her legs slightly, leaving her left in Eddie's lap and arching her back so that the cloth slid open—just barely—at her breasts.

"Eddie, we have been living together for a long time, and known each other for practically a year, now. You know that I am _not capable_ of being understanding." She could feel his eyes sweep over her as she spoke, but she persisted even so. "I mean, that's why I am where I am today. If I were understanding- well. My point being, I am polite to Crane and treat him well, but when he decides to come into the house at eleven-thirty at night on a _Monday_ of all days, I simply cannot abide. I- oh, well _hello_, Mister _Nygma_!"

While she had been busy talking at the speed of sound and letting her eyes slide out of focus, it seemed that Eddie had taken the initiative; his hand had crept up her leg without her noticing, and the tips of his fingers just barely grazed the apex of her thighs. A little electric shock jumped through her, and she smiled. As his hand explored familiar folds, Eddie leaned forward slightly.

"I'm not sure I could have you any other way, Roulette."

Her smile widening, Roulette stretched her leg into the air and let the delicate toes of her foot bump Eddie's cheek.

"Why don't we break in your Valentine's gift, pet?"

She watched Eddie's eyes sparkle—he'd obviously been waiting for the suggestion all day. His hand flew from her groin to her foot, which he moved after an affectionate kiss on her ankle so that he could slide from the bed. Vanishing into the closet, he was quick to return with a gift she'd had crafted only for him—a question mark cane, resembling in pattern and design the same snake which permanently embraced Roulette.

It had really said all that she felt she needed to say, the merging of their respective symbols, but she had ended up saying it anyways. It bothered and confused her, and as that alien phrase fell out of her mouth it had been as though she'd been watching herself do it.

Yesterday, she had actually said to him, "I love you," and it made her anxious that it wasn't a lie.

_That,_ she realized, was what was bothering her.

Her brief reverie ended and she sat up, fabric of the yukata bunched and hanging lazily from her body, and accepted the cane with a small smirk. They changed places, Roulette sliding out of bed and Eddie dropping onto it. He laid on his stomach, his hands moving to his boxers; she brought the cane down upon his wrists with a dainty warning tap.

"No, no. Leave them on. I don't get to see what I've done to you until afterwords, it's like Christmas."

For a moment, she simply held the instrument, getting a feel for it; it had a very pleasant heft. Nothing like this could be done with a hollow cane, because such would shatter—she was saving one of those for a day when he had really pissed her off. No, this one was quite solid.

"You know," she began absently, letting the end of the cane rest on Eddie's behind, "you must trust me an awful lot to let me do this to you. Just a little too high, and I would hit the end of the spine...a broken tailbone never really heals...and too low, I might damage the nerves in your legs."

Roulette listened as Eddie breathed in, and she smiled. "Clenching only makes it worse..."

And with that as the only warning he got, Roulette drew back the cane and snapped it forward, watching as Eddie jerked and yelped, the whole thing a symphony of the whistle of the cane, the muted slap as it hit him, and his resulting cries.

But something was off—she was always violent with him, but never quite so much. She was..._angry_ at him. Why?

"What did you do?" she whispered, hitting him a second time.

"I don't-"

"Shut up," number three, letting the cane press into the landing of its stroke, "I wasn't talking to you."

Number four, complete with follow-through; Eddie's noises had devolved into a strange combination of moans and cries, and Roulette's mind buzzed in drug-addled confusion and anger. Five, six, they were coming fast now, and hard—too hard, and she knew that, but it didn't stop her. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes burned with rage.

A thousand visions flashed before her blinding gaze and for a moment she was possessed by her grandmother, and it wasn't Eddie she was beating, it was herself, a delicate child curled into a ball with her tiny, pale hands protecting the back of her neck as the woman who was supposed to love her, supposed to protect her, instead broke her. Screamed at her, cursed at her, trained her and raised her to be the cold creature she was.

Seven, eight, something was wrong, something was very wrong, and Roulette realized there were hot tears tracking down her cheeks and she was screaming "Why?" again and again with each stroke.

It was on the ninth stroke that she finally managed to say it, the words exploding from her throat in a mixture of anguish, hatred and utter confusion.

"Why did you have to make me love you?"

The cane dropped to the ground, and Roulette followed, her legs folding beneath her like a house of cards. She stared for a moment and the trembling of her hands, only vaguely cognizant of Eddie's concerned, quiet, "Veronica?" before she buried her face in her palms and simply shook, saying over and over, "I don't understand, I don't understand!"

Despite his perhaps-too-severe beating, Nygma was off of the bed and kneeling in front of her in an instant, one hand on her shoulder and another attempting to find her cheek; she pushed him away, with the words, "No, please, please don't look at me. Don't see me like this."

But he didn't listen; he never fucking did. His hands wrapped around her wrists and slowly pulled them away from her face, and his fingers combed through dark strands of hair to push them from her eyes. She stared hard at the floor, quickly bringing the sleeve of her yukata up to her face to wipe away the evidence of her remaining humanity. When Roulette did eventually look up at Eddie, her eyes glistening, she took his face in her hands.

"I don't understand," she whispered again, her brow furrowing. "Why, why did you do this to me? This disease, I thought...I thought I was immune to it. I'm weak and putrid just like all the rest. I thought that I was stronger than this."

Eddie wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. "It's not exactly easy for me, either."

Roulette didn't reply; she simply closed her eyes. She didn't know how to deal with this; neither did Eddie, she suspected, as he pulled her up onto the bed with him and sat her in his lap, his hips at a dubious angle so as to prevent too much pain from the fresh wounds.

"Roulette?"

"What," she whispered, not turning her face to look at him.

"What's looser that a thread, a fish, and flying ribbons?"

Her brow furrowed further and she cracked a small smile, shaking her head. "You need to pick your moments, Eddie."

"A woman's tongue!" He delivered the answer with a chuckle before leaning over and flipping off the light. He tilted her face up towards his and kissed her for a long moment, a quiet moment, and when it was over he pulled away only a breath. "Why don't you just let me take care of you tonight, Veronica."

"Okay, Eddie," she sighed, closing her eyes as he lay her down upon the bed.

That night, after clothes were gone and words were lost, after Roulette had teasingly prodded at the awful purple-red tracks across Eddie's behind, and after Eddie had dozed off upon her breast, she wrapped her arms around him and allowed her hand to rest upon his head to comb delicately through his short hair. Roulette stared at the ceiling, her mind awhirl; she felt sick.

But she had known for so long, and refused to acknowledge it over and over until she finally had to get it out. It was...healthy to express things like that, right?

"Eddie?" she whispered, her fingers grazing across the ridge of his ear.

"Hrmm?"

"You don't think less of me, do you?"

"Don't be absurd," he told her, his words slurred.

"Okay." A vague smile touched Roulette's lips. "Go back to sleep, pet."

That was right...it was okay. Like putting together a puzzle, she put things into perspective. Loving a person...it was no different than loving an object, right? Maybe a little stronger, a little odder, but it was all in essence the same thing.

That's what she allowed herself to fall asleep believing—that, and as long as Eddie said that this bizarre, inescapable disease didn't change what he thought of her, didn't change the person she was...

...it was all she needed to know that it was okay to love him, and maybe be just a little human.


End file.
